A Father's Love
by in-dreams-maybe
Summary: Three moments mostly surrounding Harry and his children, with the occasional Ginny. Moment #1: Sick, Moment #2: Flying and Moment #3: Painters for a day. Please R&R!


Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine.

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A Father's Love

"Daddy?" A soft voice beside Harry aroused him from his slumber.

"Nngh… James?" Harry brought an arm over his eyes as he grumbled mentally – what time was it anyway? "What's the matter?"

"I don't feel so good, Daddy…" James whined. "My head hurts real bad and I feel all cold and shivery and icky."

After fumbling in the darkness for a while, Harry found his glasses and put them on clumsily with one hand. With the other, he snatched his wand off the table top, gave it a wave and the darkness was promptly replaced by a warm glow that filled the entire room, careful not to make the light too bright in order to avoid aggravating his son's headache.

As Ginny had gone to the Weasleys' and was only due back home the next day, Harry had the large bed to himself. Lifting James by the armpits onto the bed, he put him down next to him.

"You're burning up." Harry, with his hand upon James' brow, frowned worriedly as James curled up into a ball next to him, trembling almost unnoticeably from the fever.

With another flick of his wand and a muttered 'accio', Harry summoned fever-reducing potions from the medicine cabinet downstairs, as well as potions for James' headache.

Unstoppering the first vial, he positioned James' feverish body against his chest to support him, nudging at his lips with the glass vial.

"I need you to drink this for me, Jamie. Can you open up now please?"

James moaned in protest, bringing his face away from the potion phial and turning towards Harry's chest.

"Don' wanna," he mumbled, "it's yucky."

Harry ran a hand through his untamed locks and sighed. Repositioning James, he brought the vial to James' lips once more.

"I know it isn't the nicest thing on Earth, but it'll help bring your temperature down and make you feel better. I have another for your headache as well. Can you be a brave, big boy now and drink this?"

"It'll make this icky feeling go away? You promise?" James asked.

"Yes, it will," promised Harry, smiling gratefully when James took a deep breath and gulped the potion down, pulling a face as soon as the phial was empty.

Harry swiftly uncorked the second vial, this one containing a potion for pain, and fed it to James, who accepted it with less complaint than before.

"Eww!" cried James once he had downed both potions. "That was disgusting!" He scrunched his face up and stuck out his tongue. "Bleh!"

His expression caused Harry to give a low chuckle as he smoothed his son's dark mop of hair and tucked him in. "I know, I know, but you were a brave boy and swallowed it all the same. Well done!"

James smiled sleepily as he closed his eyes.

Feeling James' forehead cool down slightly, Harry got up from the bed and padded noiselessly to the toilet and prepared a cool wet cloth.

He banished the empty potion flasks from the bedside table and dimmed the lights further as he watched James' chest rise and fall, albeit labouredly. Placing a kiss on his slightly sweaty forehead, Harry placed the carefully folded wet cloth there, watching closely as James' breathing became easier and slowed down.

"Love you, Jamsie," Harry whispered into his ear.

After assuring himself that James was well and truly asleep, Harry 'nox'ed the remaining light. Climbing into the bed beside his son, Harry closed his eyes for a quick rest, knowing that he would have to wake up in a few hours to check on James before long.

* * *

"I have pumpkin juice and refreshments for all of you!" announced Ginny, nudging the back door open with her foot.

A black blur zoomed past Ginny as she stepped out of the back door to their homemade Quidditch pitch in the back yard, causing her yelp and nearly drop her tray in shock.

"Whee!" shrieked the culprit, an eight year old James, laughing in glee as he did loops around the pitch. "This is so much fun!"

"James Sirius Potter, if you don't stop pulling such reckless stunts right now, I swear to Merlin I will confiscate your broom until your grandchildren have grandchildren and you're old and wrinkled!" screeched Ginny, setting the glasses of iced pumpkin juice and snacks she had prepared on the nearby table and placing her hands on her hips. "And if he falls, I'm blaming you, Harry James Potter! Do you hear me?"

On the other end of the pitch, Harry was busying himself with teaching Albus how to fly.

"Relax, Al. The broomstick is set to hover at this height only. Even if you fall, which you won't, you won't be injured. Trust me! I'll make sure you're as safe as possible," Harry reassured his younger son, who did little to hide his anxiety at being off the ground on nothing but a thin stick of wood.

"Come on already, Al," whined James, landing on the field with practised ease and supporting his broomstick with his shoulder. "Don't be such a spoil sport! Flying's awesome fun, get on your broom already and stop being such a wimp, you're already six years old! You're so boring!"

"I'm not!" retorted Albus. "Daddy says it's fine that I take my own time to learn how to fly. Right, Daddy?" Albus turned his vivid green eyes to Harry for reassurance as James rolled his eyes in exasperation.

Chucking, Harry smoothed Albus' hair. "Yes, it's perfectly all right to learn at your own pace. Everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses, not everyone takes to flying like you do, Jamsie, so please be more understanding. How would you feel if someone looked down on you for not being able to do something? Besides, Al here is really trying his best, isn't he?"

"Uh huh," agreed Albus, nodding his head vigorously.

"I guess…" James trailed off in grudging acceptance. "'m sorry, Al."

"It's all right, James!" smiled Albus, his emerald eyes sparkling in the sun.

Harry grinned at his sons before picking up his own broomstick from the ground. "Al, we're done for today. Go wash up, you sweaty pig! I'm really proud of you for your effort today!"

Albus darted over to Harry, clinging onto him with tight hug before racing off indoors to get cleaned up. "Thanks Daddy! Love you!" he yelled as he ran.

"And now," began Harry dramatically as he mounted his own broomstick, "let's play!"

"Yeah!" screamed James enthusiastically, pushing off the ground. "Race you!"

The musical laughter of his oldest son tugged the corner of Harry's lips upwards as he imitated James' actions, streaking after him.

"Hey there former Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies!" he called to Ginny as he flew past. "Care to grace us with your presence?"

"Nah, I'm quite happy where I am now!" shouted Ginny from her place on the grass, nursing a cool glass of pumpkin juice and watching them. "Perhaps some other time!"

"Have it your way!" hollered Harry as he lowered himself parallel to his broomstick. "I'm going to catch you, Jamsie! Watch out!"

* * *

"All right, lady and gentlemen!" cried Harry. "We'll be re-painting this room to make it all lovely looking for Auntie Luna's new twins!"

James, Albus and Lily giggled at Harry. "You look really silly, Daddy!" laughed Lily.

"I do not!" Harry began indignantly. "I'll have you know that I am dressed appropriately for this activity!" The three children laughed even harder as he brandished his paint brush and flaunted his frilly apron.

"Let's get down to business!"

With that, the father and his children dipped their paintbrushes carelessly into the tins of azure blue and pale yellow and slapped them onto the walls of the soon-to-be nursery. Each was responsible for one wall and Lily was humming a cheerful melody while she worked.

_ Splat!_

"Um… Oops?" James sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "Sorry, Dad. On the bright side though, this new look really suits you." James nodded in mock-seriousness.

Harry stood there, blue paint trickling little by little from his forehead to his chin before dripping onto the floor.

_Splat!_

"Hmm, is that so? I wouldn't be so sure, myself. I think it fits you much better, Jamsie," chortled Harry as he returned the favour, this time with yellow paint.

"Eww! Gross, Dad!" exclaimed James as he wiped some of the paint off his brow.

Lily and Albus stood by the side, trying to stifle their laughter as father and son stood opposite each other, both faces covered in paint. Their attempts failed when Lily let out a small snigger which drew Harry's attention to the pair.

"Oho, so you think this is funny, do you?" Harry grinned mischievously as he dipped his paintbrush into a tin.

"Eep!" shrieked Lily, grabbing Albus' arm. "He's after us, Al! Run!"

"Hey! Come back here, you little rascals!" cried Harry as he raised his brush and gave chase. "After them, Jamsie!"

Laughter echoed around the room as Lily and Albus darted around, trying to avoid James and Harry who were hot on their heels.

There was a splash of wet paint hitting the floor as James aimed for his brother but missed by a little over an inch. "Missed me! Try again!" was Albus' cheeky reply as he dashed off.

"Gotcha!" was Harry's triumphant proclamation as his brush made contact with the back of Albus' head. "What was that earlier, little one?" Harry cocked his head to the side with an innocent expression, grinning madly.

A while later, Lily's front was stained with a blotch of yellow to complement the streaks of blue on her arms and legs. A proud James stood beside her, smirking.

"Hey all you painters, Luna says lunch is ready and that you guys should go wash up before going –" Ginny opened the door and found the four occupants splattered in blue and yellow, mixed with an occasional smear of green where the two colours blended together.

"What is this?" she shrieked, her infamous Weasley temper rising to the surface. She turned to Harry, her arms held akimbo. "This," she gestured to the room, "is supposed to resemble a nursery, Harry James Potter, not a war zone!"

"Um, hey there, Gin!" Harry waved embarrassedly at her, his torso entirely covered with paint in varying degrees of dryness. "We're, uh, painting!"

Ginny rolled her eyes, but her glare softened.

"So I can see. I don't know about you, but I'm sure that Luna meant for you to be painting the room, not each other," she said. "Now look at this mess!"

"Sorry, Gin," replied Harry. "But we'll get everything sorted out in no time, right kiddos?"

"Yeah!" chorused the three Potter children, face-splitting grins visible through the paint that coated their faces.

"All right," Ginny relented. "Be quick! Lunch is ready, so don't keep others waiting!"

As the door shut, Harry turned to his children.

"You all heard Mum, didn't you? We'll have to be really fast."

As his children nodded enthusiastically, he dipped his brush into the yellow paint. "Now, I bet I can finish painting my wall before any of you!"

"No way, Dad!" they retorted, giggling, and turned to their walls, each painting energetically.

It wasn't half an hour before the room had been painted, the floors cleaned and the paint cans banished. A quick 'scourgify' from Harry made sure they were all lunch-ready as the four trooped down the stairs. _I love magic, _thought a drained Harry as he brought up the rear. _Merlin knows how I'd survive without it._

"All finished?" inquired Ginny once she saw them.

"Yup! Finally!" replied an exhausted Harry, slumping bonelessly into the nearest empty chair. "You know… Involving the kids in this whole room painting thing? In retrospect, it might have been a bad idea. I'm so tired I could sleep for a week straight!"

"You think?" she asked sceptically as she quirked an eyebrow. "And whose brilliant plan was that, hmm?" Ginny grinned wickedly.

"Oh, shut up," Harry grumbled.

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**A/N: **Woah. The 2k word limit was tough for me to hit given how I had no inspiration for this piece whatsoever. Please leave a review telling me how I did! Constructive criticism is appreciated, flames are not. Click that button!

**Written for the Camp Potter II Challenge on the HPFC forum.**

**Activity: Archery (One-shots of 2k or more)**

**Mandatory prompt: Write about a father and his children**

**Optional prompts used: 2. Wet paint**

** 3. "In retrospect, it might have been a bad idea."**

** 5. Accio**


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